


Drama Kings

by nagoyadelay



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-07 13:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagoyadelay/pseuds/nagoyadelay
Summary: After a lackluster performance in the GPF, Christophe knows he has to do something different.After a series of failed relationships, Georgi knows he has to do something different.Maybe - just maybe - they each hold the key to what the other needs...





	Drama Kings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts).



> Happy RSOI, greygerbil! I hope you enjoy your gift!

To Chris’s surprise, fifth place at the GPF feels a hell of a lot worse than second.  
  
It’s been said that second-place medalists are the least happy, even moreso than third place, because if you’re in third you’re just happy to be on the podium (and JJ, after his disastrous short program, definitely looks thrilled to even be on the podium). And Chris thought there could be nothing worse than the feeling of second best - Lord knows he’d felt it enough over the years. But fifth place feels like a knife to the gut; it hurts worse because Chris knows that this time, he has no one to blame but himself.  
  
He was the one who thought there’d be smooth sailing in the GPF without Victor, that he would rightfully claim his throne - albeit a tad bittersweet without the thrill of beating Victor. But without Victor to chase, he faltered. He didn’t evolve as Yuuri and even Otabek had changed; perhaps didn’t take Yuri as seriously as he should have; didn’t count on JJ’s perseverance. He felt like the oldest twenty-five-year-old on the planet, ancient, fossilized. He’d always secretly thought of himself as one of the more interesting “what could have been” stories in the history of the sport: if not for Victor, _he’d_ be the dominant champion of his era. Realizing that this simply wasn’t true - that without a greater name to chase, he’d become complacent, placid, unremarkable - had completely fucked him up. He wasn’t merely a slow-starter this year - just a non-starter and non-factor.  
  
Christophe Giacometti had never thought of himself as unremarkable or unsurprising, yet that was how he had finished his season, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

* * *

After a season of heartbreak - both personally feeling it, and letting it manifest itself on the ice through relentless self-expression - Georgi has decided that he wants to move on with his life.  
  
Ever since he was a teenager, he’s been obsessed with being in love. Whether it was a crush, or one-sided pining, or being in the sort of too-much-too-fast relationship where he felt like he could barely breathe without the other person - Georgi lived for that feeling. It made every heartbreak hurt even worse because every time he entered a relationship, it felt like he was with The One and they were Meant to Be, so he was left drifting, aimless, and hollowed out, like a canoe on an open sea. But the cycle always repeated itself: there was a new girl; a new bright, intense connection; a new agonizing end.  
  
But after this season of re-living his Anya-related anguish over and over again - Georgi doesn’t think he can do it anymore. There has to be a different path to true love than the one he’s been traveling down for all these years. _Has_ to.  
  
So he’s deleted every dating app from his phone. He’s removed all of the ambiguous phone numbers with names like Yelena (Supermarket) or Anna (ice dance GER). He’s hidden his relationship status on every form of social media he can. He’s ready to break the cycle.  
  
He feels surprisingly light as he does this, but also scared - who is Georgi Popovich if he’s not chasing?  
  
He doesn’t know.

* * *

 

Chris watches Russian Nationals with interest. He’s already competed in - and won - the Swiss equivalent, but he always does. And his skating still felt slow and plodding.  
  
But there’s Yuri, with his perpetual frown, still tired from his first senior GPF season; he downgrades a couple of jumps from what he’d done in the GPF final. There’s Victor, looking for all the world like he's achieved new heights artistically, but even he two-foots a quad flip.  
  
And then there’s Georgi.  
  
Chris and Victor have been friends for many years, but Chris and Georgi have never really been more than acquaintances. For one, Georgi was hardly around - he was usually off with whatever girl he couldn’t bear to untangle himself from for a few minutes. And when he was around, that meant whatever relationship he’d been in had just ended, or perhaps he’d had a date that didn’t live up to the enormous expectations he’d built in his head. Georgi’s romantic tendencies were to put the cart before the horse. Chris’s own philosophy was to ride the horse before attaching a cart to it, so to speak.  
  
The thing about Georgi, though, Chris thinks, is that during the GPF, he appeared to feel none of the disappointment that Chris felt about losing in a Victor-less season. His focus, rather, always seemed to be on expressing himself, on doing his best to artistically interpret his feelings - in this case, heartbreak - into something expressive and cathartic for him. Still, his routine seems a little… off right now, as though he’s not really feeling it. Chris wonders why. Is Georgi okay?  
  
An idea begins to take shape. He decides to give Georgi a call.

* * *

“Christophe Giacometti,” Georgi says. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello, Georgi. How are you?”

“Why are you calling me?” The last time Chris had called him had been to get confirmation that Victor had, in fact, run off to Japan to coach Yuuri. The last time before that was several years earlier, when Chris and Victor had managed to get locked into a utility closet someone had tricked them into thinking was a secret gay speakeasy bar.

“I need your help,” Chris admits.

“Seriously? This is… unexpected. You’ve never had much time for me.”

“You’ve never had much time for _me_ , with your constant thirst for a girlfriend. Tell me, are you hunting anyone right now?”

“Hunting? You make me sound like I’m in pursuit of a bear, not a woman.”

“If you’re interested in bears, I have a few friends that I could introduce you to.”

“Very funny,” Georgi responds. “But, if you must know… no. I’m not seeing anyone currently. I’m trying something new. I’m finding myself. Trying to learn who I am outside of a relationship. The only person I’m in a relationship with is Georgi.”

Chris raises an eyebrow, even though Georgi can’t see. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. You think I can’t do it?”

“Well, no, I…” Honestly, Chris was skeptical, but didn’t want to be rude. Chris had been single for over a year. 

“Anyway, what do you want?”

“I’d like to invite you to come train with me for a week or two.”

“What? Are you serious? It’s almost time for Euros. I can’t leave.”

“You’d get here tomorrow, and leave the first week of January. You’ll still have time to punch up your routine with Yakov.”

“But -“

“Josef already cleared it with Yakov.” The two of them were old friends - and post-competition drinking buddies. “It would just be like… a special training camp.”

“Why?”

“I’ve spent most of my career chasing Victor,” Chris says. “I’m glad he’s come back, but last season made me realize that I need some other way to motivate myself. I think you hold the key to figuring out how to do so. And perhaps I can help you in return.”

Georgi is silent for a bit; he has no idea how he could possibly help Chris. He hasn’t finished higher than Chris in a competition in years. But perhaps Chris - who is so comfortable with himself, his sexuality, his romantic life - can help Georgi find his way back to finding out who he is.  

“Chasing Victor is a fool’s errand,” Georgi finally replies. “I’ve been in his shadow since the day I was born.”

“That’s quite dramatic.”

“I was born the day after him.”

“Oh."

After some more chatter about the details (Georgi will stay in Chris's spare room, Chris will pay the three hundred euros for airfare), they've made a deal.

* * *

Georgi arrives in Zurich on a Wednesday. Chris impatiently waits for him; he scrolls through photos on Instagram, smiling at a picture of Victor, Yuuri, and Yuri hanging out at the Museum of Soviet Arcade Machines in St. Petersburg. It’s amazing how much Victor’s life has changed in such a short time, the way that love has transformed him.

Georgi is a head-turning presence in the airport once he leaves the secure area. His hair is in a perfect quiff, and he’s wearing all black with the exception of a baby-blue scarf that looks hand-knitted - by his mother, perhaps. In a long coat and boots, he looks much like a movie star from a bygone era, like he should be standing next to a retro convertible outside of a dimly lit motel. Chris had never noticed quite how striking Georgi was before. _Singlehood agrees with him_ , he thinks appreciatively.

It’s a little awkward when they see each other. Chris isn’t sure what to do with his arms; they’re not close enough friends to hug. He settles for a pat on the shoulder, followed by taking Georgi’s bag and carrying it for him in an act of gallantry.

“Thanks for offering for me to come visit,” Georgi says, slightly smiling. “I needed something different. Yakov thought it might do me good, too, though he’s sad to lose his most agreeable skater.” Chris thinks of who’s left in St. Petersburg and has to suppress a laugh; poor Yakov.

“You don’t have to agree with Josef all the time, but he’s definitely different from Yakov. A bit softer. But still very tough.”

It’s a quick tram ride from the airport to Chris’s apartment. The two of them chat amicably along the way; much to Chris’s surprise, the conversation is easy and not stilted, with chatter about the universal horrors of plane travel and some humorous anecdotes about their respective rink mates.

“Nice place,” Georgi says as he takes in his first glance at Chris’s apartment. “Much less showy than I was expecting.”

Chris isn’t sure if he should be offended or not; he decides to shrug it off. “I prefer my home to be simple and modern. Calming. Like a wellness spa.”

A gentle meow comes from the direction of the kitchen.

“Sounds like someone’s hungry. Come, meet Valentine,” he says, gesturing for Georgi to follow.

“Valentine?”

“I adopted her on my twenty-third birthday,” Chris says while opening a can of cat food. “Which is Valentine’s Day. I was going to go with Cupidon, but then I read that Valentine means ‘strong, vigorous, healthy’. I liked the idea of having a strong woman guarding my flat. She stays with my parents when I’m out of town.”

Georgi laughs and bends down to get a closer look while Chris fusses with the cat food. He clicks his tongue in an attempt to get her to come to him. As though Georgi is some sort of mysterious cat whisperer, she does, purring under his hand. Chris is very surprised; Valentine is very particular about who she likes and who she doesn’t, and rarely warms to strangers. Yet she’s utterly content with Georgi, whose joy at petting her is so infectious that it makes Chris smile, too. “Looks like you’ve made a new friend.”

“She’s so soft. Like a little pillow.” Valentine pulls away from Georgi’s hand with lightning-fast speed at the sound of food hitting her bowl.

“Don’t take it personally. Food is her one true love.”

* * *

Georgi’s sleep that night is the best it’s been since before Russian Nationals. He wakes up with Valentine snuggled up against his arm; he briefly forgets where he is before remembering that he’s in Chris’s spare room.

He takes a moment to really take a look around the room. There’s a photo collage on the wall opposite the foot of the bed. He doesn’t recognize most of the people in the photos; he assumes that the tall older couple in several photos are Chris’s parents given the family resemblance. There’s a photo of Chris and Victor in Paris; one with all of last year’s GPF finalists; a few of Chris with unknown friends or skaters only familiar to Georgi in passing; one of Chris winning the Junior GPF with Josef at his side.

Georgi thinks of what a collage of his would look like. Photos of his parents, certainly. One of him and Yakov; Victor, Mila, maybe Yuri if Yuri would allow Georgi to get within ten feet of him with a camera. But who else? He was at a bit of a loss; one thing he realized about his commitment to being single was that he didn’t have much of anyone in his life outside of his parents or skating...

At the rink, Georgi finds that Josef is, indeed, a bit different from Yakov. Less gruff than Yakov, for certain, and perhaps slightly more patient. But he pushes his skaters just as hard as Yakov does.

“What do you think about when you skate?” Georgi asks Chris as they do lazy warmups on the ice. He tries not to stare at Chris’s legs so much, but he’s wearing a very tight pair of workout pants that accentuate every muscle and make his ass look fantastic. Georgi is wearing his special tank top; it makes him feel beautiful. Chilly, but beautiful.

“Seducing the crowd. Oh… and trying to beat Victor, usually. Why, what do you think about?”

Georgi gives him a puzzled look. “Myself.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I create a story. Skating is my way of expressing my feelings. A fairy tale world where I’m the hero - or the villain, if it's what the story calls for. It’s not yours?” Georgi can’t imagine any other way of skating.

“Well that’s not completely fair,” Chris huffs. “I do express my feelings.”

“But is this your authentic self? So… thirsty? Peacocking?”

“Yes,” Chris frowns. “It’s fun for me. Self-expression doesn’t always have to be so dramatic, you know. There’s not just one way. Watch.” With that, Chris begins to run through part of his short program as Georgi looks on.

The thing that Georgi notices about Chris’s routine that he’d never realized before is just how deliberate it all is. The seductive arm movements, the timed head tilts - it’s incredibly precise, but never seems inauthentic. Rather, it’s both showy and sensual in a way that Georgi has never considered for himself; he’d always kept that part of himself private on the ice despite all of his very public relationships. But Chris wears his sensuality like a medal, displays it like a trophy, and Georgi feels himself begin to blush. He has to shake himself out of imagining Chris doing those same movements, off the ice, without clothes -

“You’re right,” Georgi says glumly. “Your form of self-expression is quite-“ Georgi doesn’t want to say _hot_ , even though he’s thinking it - “-acceptable.”

“It’s my free that really needs the work. Perhaps later tonight we can try coming up with a story for it?”

* * *

Having Georgi in such close proximity has been quite nice. It turns out that Georgi has a wonderful, dry sense of humor when he’s not brooding or lovestruck. He's attentive and affectionate to Valentine, who adores him (Chris is only a little jealous). He has a tremendous, infectious laugh that he can hardly control once something is funny to him. He sings in the shower, and it’s quite loud, but his voice is surprisingly beautiful.  And Chris just likes _looking_ at him - each time he does, he notices something new about Georgi that makes him even more attractive.  The curve of his jawline, his muscular arms; it's all part of an incredibly handsome package.

"Pretend you're an evil witch," Georgi says while holding a leather-bound notebook, curled up on Chris’s couch with Valentine at his feet. It strikes Chris how natural Georgi looks in his home, on his furniture. Like he was meant to be there.

Chris tosses a throw pillow at him. "That's your answer to everything!"

Georgi laughs. "You're an evil, seductive witch who needs to find someone seduceable in the crowd and then seduce them with your super seducing powers.”

"Do I look evil to you?" Chris says, fluttering his eyelashes. Georgi says no, but it takes him a moment, and he spills a bit of his coffee afterward. Chris likes flustering Georgi a bit; his reactions are so sincere that he’s fun to tease.

“Let’s think about the music,” Georgi says, recovering but not looking at Chris directly. “How does it make you _feel_?”

“Like an evil, seductive witch?” Now it’s Chris’s turn to get hit with the pillow.

“I’m being serious, Chris!”

“Okay, okay.” Chris has heard _Rapsodie Espagnole_ so many times this season that he could recreate every single instrument sound in it from memory. “Well it starts off with a lot of bombast. Then it gets quiet and there’s a series of flute movements. About halfway in, the percussion begins to kick back in. The the percussion goes out and there’s a short string section, then more flutes that are sort of back and forth. Then the strings and flutes kind of face off against one another. Then all the instruments come together for the finale, building and building to the end.”

Georgi frowns. “You just told me how it sounded. But how does it make you _feel_?”

Chris isn’t sure how to answer; he’s been skating it for months, he should have an answer. “It makes me feel like I’m being celebrated. Like I’m the star of a show for three and a half minutes.”

“…that’s what figure skating is. You literally just described the act of figure skating.” Georgi rolls his eyes. “Can you play the song for me again?”

Chris begins to play the song from his phone, turning up the volume as loud as it can go.

“You’re on your way to court some sort of noble gentleman.”  Georgi begins scribbling notes. “Someone regal and well-dressed.  The flute is you. You’re trying out different techniques to seduce him. You’re writing love letters. You’re sending flowers. Whatever you do when courting someone.”

“I usually just take them to bed, actually.”

Georgi ignores Chris. “This part where the drums kick in - you’ve lost all hope. You make a last ditch effort. You dance for him. It works! The strings are him responding to you. He’s uncertain of your sincerity. Then this back and forth part -“ Georgi is scribbling wildly now - “is you and your nobleman sort of feeling each other out. Determining if you’re the right fit. And then!” Georgi waves his arm in the air like a conductor. “Boom! The final drums hit. You kiss him! He kisses you back! All is right with the world! You’ll live happily ever after!”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Chris says, rolling his eyes.

“If I’m one, then you’re one. We’re drama kings.” Georgi winks at Chris, who bursts out laughing.

“Tell me, what do you think about when you’re skating now?” Chris can’t imagine what could be going on in Georgi’s mind, especially seeing the difference between his programs in the GPF and Russian Nationals.

“I’m working on new stories for myself. Ones that aren't heartbreak.  Ones that are about happiness.”

“Would you like me to help?”

“No, thank you. I’m still working out the transitions. But I’ll share when I’m ready, I promise.”

* * *

A few days later, at Georgi’s urging, Chris offers his advice in how to be single; "Be comfortable with who you are.  And don't immediately fall in love with every beautiful person you see.  If love happens, it happens,” he tells Georgi, “but don’t come on too strong."

The two of them stop at a cafe on their way back from morning practice; the barista is a cute, petite brunette who politely smiles at Georgi as she returns his change.  It does nothing for Georgi. He doesn’t immediately imagine their shared life together, their unborn children.

He thinks that this is progress, and smiles to himself, but he notices Chris frowning at the interaction and can’t figure out why.  At seeing Georgi looking at him, though, Chris perks up and smiles.

“That was wonderful, Georgi!” Chris says, patting him on the back, no trace of his previous frown.  

Georgi begins to relish the little moments within his temporary living arrangement with Chris; sitting together with Chris on the couch, legs touching, watching makeup tutorials.  Chris taking a dramatic picture of Georgi in front of the Grossmünster as snow flurries fall around him.  Seeing Chris, half-dressed in the mornings, barely functional until he's had a second cup of coffee.  Georgi's having a wonderful time, and he feels better than he has in months, maybe even years.  His face hurts from smiling and laughing so much.

“Thanks for visiting,” Chris says, on the day Georgi returns to St. Petersburg.  “It was fun.” He gives Georgi a strong hug.  Georgi holds him tight, like he would a lover; he realizes, strangely, that he doesn’t want to let Chris go.  He doesn't want to leave Chris behind.

He brushes Chris’s cheek with his lips lightly. “Dasvidanya," he says, as he extricates himself from Chris and enters his cab.  He doesn’t look back.

Georgi flies home to St. Petersburg more confused than ever. He doesn’t call or text Chris at all, even when Chris texts to ask how he’s doing. _How am I doing?_ he thinks.   _I’m confused_.   _This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m not ready for you._

It’s different, having feelings for someone but not letting yourself follow them blindly. It’s different from the thrill of pursuit, the highs and lows.  It’s a pebble in the pit of your stomach, the ache of having to restrain yourself to prevent yourself from being impulsive or declarative. A quiet longing, a silent humiliation.  Georgi is immediately miserable again, but this time, for once, he keeps it to himself.  

* * *

Chris thinks only of Georgi during the lead-up to Euros.

His smile; the way he laughs, the way his body felt against Chris’s while lingering in the doorway. Georgi hasn’t responded to any of his attempts to reach out. Chris has been ghosted before - he knows it’s best to try not to take it too hard and move on, there are tons of other potential suitors. But it’s hard to shake Georgi from his mind. He’d thought there was a real and genuine connection there, a spark. Perhaps Georgi isn’t ready; after all, he’s trying to be single. If Georgi wants him, great; Chris isn’t going to force anything. He can be patient.

At the European Championships, he wants Georgi - and the world - to see who he is and why he’s worth waiting for.

* * *

Georgi’s mind is a mess by the time he arrives at the European Championships. He's tried meditating, eating his best diet, extra yoga. It doesn’t matter what he tries - all he can think about is Chris. But it's different from his previous pursuits - he's not picturing roses and champagne and rings and wedding chapels. He's picturing waking up with Chris in the morning in Chris's bed instead of sleeping in the next room; feeding Chris's cat (who would become their cat, if Chris said it was okay); cuddling with Chris while they watch television. The quiet, domestic things that he's never thought of before. All of his previous romantic notions leaned much more grandiose.

He finds himself being a little more careful with his makeup this time, a little more subtle - as though he wants someone to see the real him. He’s found his new story, and he's ready to share it; he's imagining a prince - no, a king -  as he skates _Carabosse_ this time — except now, rather than him awakening someone, Georgi imagines himself in a bed of black roses, being awakened with a kiss that wakes him up and changes the roses from black to red. It’s one of his best performances.

"I'm so proud of you," Yakov says. "I don't know what happened in Switzerland, but you've really taken your skating to a higher level today.” Georgi doesn't tell him, but Yakov has always understood him in that strange, mystical way that coaches intuitively understand the idiosyncrasies of their students, and Georgi knows that Yakov knows.

* * *

When Chris skates to _Intoxicated_ , he’s still sensual, but also vulnerable, open. It’s the performance he didn’t give during the GPF - he’s not taking it slow, not one bit. There’s something less calculated about his performance, more raw, more desperate. He gives himself a story, despite telling Georgi he didn't need one for the short program:

_Chris is gifted a looking glass. One day, he sees a beautiful man through the mirror. He begins to talk to him, connect with him, befriend him, develop feelings for him. Yet the mirror is cursed; the man on the other side is trapped unless he is the first to reach out to Chris. One day, the man walks away from the glass, never to return. Chris checks the mirror every day for signs of him, for any indication of his presence…_

There is no sign that Georgi sees the performance at all, but Chris enters the free skate in second, behind Yuri Plisetsky by less than a point, with Victor very close behind. Chris only hopes that Georgi will find his way back to him, whenever Georgi is ready.

* * *

Georgi is stunned by Chris’s performance that night. He can’t deal with how it made him feel; it felt like less like an open invitation and more like an exclusive calling for one. The longing to be touched that Chris was somehow able to express - Georgi felt it.

Could it possibly mean that Chris wanted him, too?

He’s flustered and barely sleeps that night, tossing and turning and having nightmares of being wrong about what he saw, of being rejected and left heartbroken yet again.

His free skate is fine - not his best, but pretty good, given how distracted he is.  He perseveres through a fall and keeps going, nailing a quad Sal near the end.  He’s in tears as he leaves the ice, smearing his makeup.  Yakov gives him a sympathetic shoulder pat, his gruff face betraying nothing. “You did well," Yakov says.  "You recovered.  You showed great strength.  We can put in the work before Worlds."  

He wants to crawl into a hole, but he changes and settles into the stands to see Chris skate instead. He's rooting for Chris to win. He _needs_ Chris to win.

* * *

 When Chris skates his free skate, he’s telling a story:

A story of two men, who’ve spent most of their lives chasing. Who were smart enough to realize that the path they were on was no longer sustainable. Two men whose lives became intertwined for a short period of time that felt so much longer. Chris isn’t preening today - he’s expressing who he is beyond the scope of the seducer, the peacock that Georgi had called out. He’s not sure if Georgi is watching - he might be showering or stretching after his skate, especially after the way his own free skate had gone. But he hopes he is, or at least he sees later, sees how much Chris was able to redirect his energy, how Georgi was able to help elevate him and make him better.

Most of all, he hopes that Georgi is proud of him.

Chris takes home the gold; he’s thrilled beyond belief as a skater; he’s not so old yet, as washed out as he had felt a few short months ago. However, the thrill of victory is tempered by the lack of Georgi anywhere to be seen. He excuses himself from Josef at the end of the post-medal ceremony press conference, claiming exhaustion; he doesn’t even want to go out and celebrate. He’s emotionally worn out and completely drained as he makes his way back to the hotel.

But then: Georgi Popovich is waiting for him at the door to his hotel room.  

* * *

Kissing Chris is just as incredible as Georgi had imagined.  Georgi can’t hide a single sigh or moan, and he’s so nervous that his hands are shaking and his facial expression seems to be in a permanent state of disbelief that this is even happening, that Chris wants _him_ , that Chris wants him so badly that he’s tearing off Georgi’s clothes against the back of the hotel room door. His mouth is all over Georgi’s neck, his chest, his torso as he slides his hands up Georgi’s firm thighs.

“I usually go a bit slower,” Georgi says, flushed and flustered. “It’s more -“

“Romantic?” Chris interrupts before kissing his way up Georgi’s inner thigh. “This isn’t romantic enough for you?” Chris stops suddenly and, much to Georgi’s surprise, picks him up with minimal effort and carries him to the bed, bridal-style, where he continues his full-scale assault on Georgi’s thighs at about 1/10th the speed as before.

“Chris,” Georgi whines. He’s clutching the sheets in a balled-up fist and his left leg is trembling, causing a small earthquake in the topography of the bed linens.

Chris looks up at him through long eyelashes. “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

“No,” Georgi declares, and the way Chris looks at Georgi when he says it - like he’s a god, some kind of supernatural being who has granted him his most absolute desire, looking at him with those green, green eyes - absolutely floors him. Georgi thinks that he will remember that look for the rest of his life.

Chris makes short work of the rest of Georgi's clothes.  Chris begins shedding his own clothes before going back to Georgi, but Georgi interrupts him first.

"Turn around," Georgi says, "I want to see the most famous part of you."

Chris laughs. "You're ridiculous," he says, as he turns around, giving Georgi a spectacular view of his glorious ass before climbing back onto the bed and attacking him from above.

He prepares Georgi gently, despite how much Georgi wants him and how impatient Georgi behaves while Chris does it, clawing at his legs and stomach, reaching out to pump Chris's cock with a shaky hand. Chris looks into Georgi's eyes as he pushes into him, giving Georgi a moment to adjust.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chris murmurs as he begins to move.  Georgi blushes, puts a forearm over his face; no one’s ever called him beautiful before.  “No, move your arm. I want to see your face. It’s a beautiful face.” Georgi puts his arm down, and then Chris hits a spot that makes Georgi arch his back of the bed and cry out so loud that he can probably be heard from the street outside the hotel room.

And at the end of it all, with Georgi prone and pliable, Chris crying out for God as he comes - Georgi thinks that he will also remember _that_ look for the rest of his life.

* * *

Georgi moves to Zurich on a Friday after Worlds.  The two of them drink coffee together every morning, and kiss each other goodnight every night before falling asleep. Georgi is quiet about their relationship on instagram at first before finally outing himself as a "proud cat father”, with Chris seated next to him and Valentine in matching stylish sweaters.

Once upon a time, there were two men - both kings in their own right; both asleep in their own way. Yet they were able to awaken one another, and live happily ever after...


End file.
